


Black Card

by AnselaJonla



Series: Prompt fills [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: Prompt fill: [WP] “Do you have a lisence to raise the dead?”





	Black Card

"Yes," I reply testily. As if I would be doing this  _without_  a licence. The minimum ten year sentence for unlicensed necromancy just isn't worth it. "I'm contracted by Marisan Utility, on behalf of Trevern Sent Water, to raise the legally donated dead for the purposes of utilities works. Specifically the replacement and upgrading of the drainage in this area, to prevent a repeat of the storm floods of the past few winters."

"I'm going to have to check your credentials with the Police National Computer. Please stay where you are. Name, date of birth, and registered address?" The firearms officer who halted my reanimation ritual is still pointing his gun at me, and my arms are getting tired from being raised in the air. More importantly, he interrupted before I could put the magical shackles on the corpses I'd already raised, and they were starting to become dangerously aware of their surroundings.

Rule 1 of licensed necromancy: always, always,  _always_  apply the control spells. If you don't, well... careless necromancers don't tend to live very long.

I sigh. "Can I at least cast the soul binding on this lot? I'd rather not be torn apart by a pack of hungry undead."

"Stay  _exactly_  where you are, hands in the air!"

That would be a no then. Ah well, there's one thing I can do at least. My fingers twist, weaving magic around myself as I whisper a simple cantrip.

With a feral snarl, the first undead lunges for the copper. He fires, but he's aiming for centre of mass, and he soon goes down under the weight of the ravenous zombie pack. They ignore me, shielded in my cocoon of protective magic. It won't hold for long, but it's done its job.

I sever the connection between the feeding pack and the earth magic that sustains them, and they collapse like puppets whose strings have been cut.

Brilliant. That's the job delayed while this mess is sorted. At least there won't be any doubt who's to blame. Not only will a court necromancer will just summon the idiot officer's soul back to testify in  _my_  defence, but I have  _video_  of this whole encounter.

What? Video documentation of your work is a legal requirement for any authorised Black Card holder.


End file.
